The Hallucinations of an OverHeated Young Witch
by SousLeStylo
Summary: [One Shot] Heat exhaustion never was a very pleasant thing...especially in the case of Lily Evans. R&R!


**A/N:** Well that's it then…I've given every thing up for this little piece: my dignity, and all. Because this is a Lily/James fic about a _ball_. Can you believe the bloody audacity of it all? No, neither can I. Well, read on, and keep in mind that I do this all for the sake of a challenge set forth in the one Livejournal community I deigned to read in exactly one year and four months.

Enjoy it, and don't take it to your head that I liked writing this at all…you should see all of the bullets I've had to chomp on from the pain!

**Disclaimer: **Most assuredly not mine.

**The Hallucinations of an Over-Heated Young Witch **

When traveling the grand British Isles at the cusp of the summer months, one must always remember that the weather in the United Kingdom is…tricky.

Because as trying as it is, one day the weather will be balmy, warm, spring like, and generally cheerful all around, and the next day? Well, the weather will be balmy, warm, spring like, but perchance not quite so accommodating.

For this reason, Lily Evans, a bright seventh year belonging to the very brave house of the Gryffindor Lions in the world-renowned school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was slowly sliding off of her desk.

And it wasn't just any desk she was sliding off of—it was her _exams_ desk.

Perhaps worrying about sliding off of said desk was not on Lily's top priority list at the moment for three reasons.

One, she had finished her History of Magic exam exactly seventeen minutes ago, and there was still thirty three minutes worth of sand left in the Examiner's hourglass.

Two, she was currently preoccupied with watching James Potter, a fellow Gryffindor, run his large hand through his dark hair, sending slight shivers down her back—something she'd been fighting off for the good of her entire acquaintance with the boy, and was no longer paying the slightest bit of attention to anything at all…even though Hagatha Greene in the next seat was sending dodgy glances at Lily's finished exam.

And three, it was beyond hot in that bloody room!

A thin layer of condensation, the origin of which Lily _did not_ want to ponder for a moment, was spreading across her desk, causing elbows to slide haphazardly to the side. Her thick, dark robes, made for some inane reason out of wool, were stifling. And in the hot, hazy mess that was the exam hall, Lily was starting to hallucinate.

To be sure, hallucinating was not something Lily did on a regular basis. Hallucinating was something that those American chaps with the flowers in their hair and the loud, "psychedelic" music took part in regularly.

Lily, on the other hand, was a fairly straight-path, keep your toes out of the waves young woman, and so at no time was she expected to be sitting with droopy eyes, enjoying a _daydream_ in the middle of an exam.

However, such was her current state, and what an alarming state it was indeed, for Lily Evans, against all her better judgment, was daydreaming about a _ball_.

And not just the type she'd heard of in local papers that took place in the local parish, where men and women got blasted on bad wine and even worse cider, and where their older children stood awkwardly pressed against walls, staring at each other across the room in fear.

No, she was dreaming about a _grand ball_: the likes of which no Hogwarts student had ever beheld with their wide eyes.

There was silk—yards of the stuff in every conceivable color! Long, velvety draperies hung from the walls. Candles floated through the air. Harps and cellos, flutes and pianos played softly in the background. The food was to die for!

Flutes of champagne, roasted pheasant, artichoke hearts with gruyere cheese, truffles, bon bons, cakes, puddings, buns—it was all there. The white cloth-covered buffet sagged under the weight of it all.

And what was better, what was so incredibly delightful in every way possible—Lily had a fabulous dress on. It was a dark, royal blue, and of such a fine satin that it looked to shine in the candlelight. It draped in all of the right places, making gangly young Lily look curvaceous and positively smashing. It off set her bright orange hair to the extent that Lily no longer minded the limp reddish strands any longer…they were perfect with the gown. No, this gown was certainly no dress robe!

But most of all, the one thing that Lily found so excruciatingly delicious, the one thing that made the whole daydream worth the trouble of sinking to the same level as so many other deluded teenage females, was that she was dancing with James Potter.

He had tapped her on the shoulder; dressed in dark robes that made his eyes, behind his spectacles of course, shine brilliantly. He'd said not a word—just extended his hand, kissed the top of Lily's own, and then promptly began to swirl her around the dance floor.

There were no missteps, no bungles, no tangled robes and satin gown, no prattish remarks, no misplaced pieces of hair, no sweaty palms, no…well it was perfect in every way.

And what was more; Lily didn't even mind that it was James Potter.

In fact, it almost made it _better_!

Lily sighed, and slid further down onto her desk as she allowed James to swish her around the hall. In the shadows by the walls, she could see all of the Hogwarts students watching in awe and admiration.

There was Sirius Black, strapping in his dark robes, a pretty sixth year hanging on his arm. There was Alice Pedicamp, her hand clasped tightly in the hand of Frank Longbottom, who, plump as he was, looked fine in his own attire. And there was Remus Lupin, standing quietly next to the food buffet, his shabby appearance gone, and his hair swept back fashionably, despite the mutton chops he seemed to favor these days. And even Peter Pettigrew looked remarkably spot-free as he stood nibbling the puddings on the buffet next to Remus. They were all watching, spell-bound almost.

Lily, of course, was a very talented ballroom dancer.

But the piece de resistance of the evening came when the music hit a crescendo and then died quietly. James took one look at Lily's shining eyes, and then tugged her into a niche, right between two very sweeping dark drapes. He pulled her close, leaned in slowly, said not a word, and gently placed his lips on her ow—

Lily hit the desk with a loud bang.

Her elbow had finally slid off of her desk. Her head crashed into the thick wood surface. Her exam paper went flapping off. Her quill clattered to the floor. There was ink everywhere.

And Lily's face was _terribly_ red.

The Examiner looked up from several sheets of paper and said quickly, "My dear, are you quite all right?"

Lily nodded dumbly.

"Yes, Evans," Sirius Black shouted from across the hall, "are you quite all right there?"

"Bit of a knock, eh Lily?" Added James Potter.

Lily's face got even redder, and her robes, those blasted wooly things, were doing nothing to help her calm down! In fact, as she glared daggers at James and Sirius, she had the distinct feeling that she was over-heating. If she didn't know any better, she might just be on the verge of a fainting spell—

Lily hit the floor with a bit less of a bang, and a bit more of a thump.

For a moment, all was black. All Lily could think of was how cool the stone floor felt.

"Miss Evans? Miss Evans? My dear, do open your eyes! My, won't some one get the smelling salts?" Cried a frantic voice. It was the Examiner, and his panic was swiftly waking 'Miss Evans'.

"I'm all right, I'm okay," Lily mumbled, before shouting, "Would you get those bloody salts away from me?"

Several students, who had all crowded around the moment Lily hit the floor, pulled her to her feet. Lily stood wobbling for a moment before glancing around.

A cluster of worried students and adults had formed around her. There was James Potter, looking worried, but smirking slightly. There was Sirius, grinning like the loon that he was. There was Remus, looking genuinely concerned. There was Peter, ignoring the hub-bub and scribbling all over his exam, as if his life depended upon its completion—never mind that the Examiner had set the hour glass on its side, effectively pausing it.

The Examiner patted her on the back and said kindly, "My dear, I think, if you are finished with your exam, you ought to go the infirmary."

Lily nodded, opting not to mention to the examiner that his face was bright chartreuse in her vision, and that off in the distance she could hear the faint melody of a waltz. Instead, she stumbled toward the door, deciding promptly on exactly three things.

One, she would have to speak to a professor about the horrific conditions of the exam room in the heat of summer, not to mention the insane wool robes they were forced to wear.

Two, British weather was _extremely_ dodgy, and never again would Lily complain about a light drizzle or heavy cloud cover.

And three, daydreams were absolutely wretched things, no matter whom she was dancing with!


End file.
